ode to my mom #2

To get rid of useful things when discarding inessential things, you throw the baby out with the bath water. My mother, bless her heart, has chucked the baby at least once in my life.

My mother is not sentimental for a lot of things.

She once explained the reason for this from having grown up on a farm. You see, there were always chickens getting their head's lopped off and cow's being sold to the butcher. Baby kittens and baby birds regularly fell ill and died. At some point you just don't care anymore, I guess.

Well, this unsentimentality for some things landed our household under fire every Spring. It was like the cull of random items and her sweep of the house was ruthless and unforgiving. I have been particularly tortured and traumatized by one particular clutter detox when my mother threw out a favored and adored sandal that was separated by it's mate that was safely ensconced in my room. These were no ordinary sandals. They were flat and had criss-criss leather straps over the top of your foot and then criss-crossed up your ankles. I loved them. And because I left one at the front door and one in my room, the baby was thrown out with the bath water. I think I held on to the surviving one, sleeping with it under my pillow (crying myself to sleep), hoping and praying each night that it's mate would miraculously return

But I digress for now I am blessed with the same skill and unrepentant eye to toss out the riff raff, the unused, the under appreciated quickly and swiftly to the curb or at least to the nearest thrift store. I do it now without remorse or reflection. Haven't looked at that in 6 months? GONE! And today, my possessions are dearer, more appreciated and valued. So, Mom, while I longed for my gladiator sandals, misguided that they were a ticket to my popularity or value, I thank you now for the ability to cut my losses and move on.

xoxo
Jill

By the way, my mother is 1 year old in this photo. I'm not sure why she's having a bath in a giant tin bucket but I hope it wasn't something they did all year round. It can get pretty cold in Alberta in December. Update: Apparently that giant tin bucket was the family bathtub. See my mother's comment. Now I am utterly surprised there isn't a picture floating around of my mother in hunting gear with her fresh killed dinner.